


His Last Joke (he will laugh forever)

by L6vy



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Guilty Bruce Wayne, Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22617202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L6vy/pseuds/L6vy
Summary: Joker killed himself in Arkham. His death comes completely unexpected and Bruce thinks it's his fault. The night after the clown's death, a disturbed Batman meets a furious Harley Quinn.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 112





	His Last Joke (he will laugh forever)

Bruce stared at the Batman suit in front of him. It was standing at its usual place in the cave, next to the other equipment he used to fight criminals. He had created all of this for the sole purpose to efficiently defend himself against his opponents and help him catch them. So that Batman could fight crime, fight for justice. Fight against the clown.

It was difficult for Bruce to even touch the suit now. Looking at it made his insides go cold and he would have liked nothing more than to turn around and get as far away from it as possible.

Every single part of it reminded him of the Joker. He had used those gloves countless times to punch the villain. An image of Joker laughing in joy after receiving a brutal hit to his head filled Bruce’s mind. His mouth stretching into a wide grin as he lunged out his arm to pay him back for the punch. And before Bruce could do anything about it, other images followed. His eyes wandered over the cowl, and he saw Joker sitting on top of him, grabbing one of the ears with one hand while his other drew a knife. Bruce had barely managed to avoid that attack. He had stopped counting the times Joker had actually managed to cut off parts of his cape. Bruce’s eyes scanned it as if he could still find the parts that were stitched if he looked close enough.

But the suit was freshly repaired, and free from any cuts, scratches and stains Joker could have left behind. It looked as if all those fights had never actually happened, as if Joker had never existed. Bruce had the feeling he had pushed him out of his life long before the clown had decided to do so himself.

Joker’s laughter rang in his head, sparkling green eyes looking at him in challenge. In his mind, Joker was laughing with joy, not the cold, cruel laughs he was so known and feared for. Bruce had seen his other side, knew that Joker could show genuine joy and happiness. He had often looked happy during their fights.

He stared blankly at the suit, deep in thought. Fighting Joker had almost been like a routine for him, a stable part of his life. Their exchange of punches and kicks had turned into their personal dance, a dance Bruce had often looked forward to. Despite the scars he got from their encounters, despite the chaos Joker caused in the city, Bruce knew that deep down, he had enjoyed it. Even despite the fact he had killed Jason, and that made him hate himself even more for it. It was wrong, and he would never admit it to anyone, but he had liked fighting the Joker. He had liked it, and there was nothing he could do about it except for ignoring any of its implications and arresting him afterwards anyways.

The last time Bruce had seen Joker was when he had brought him back to Arkham. Joker had sat next to him in the passenger seat of his car, his purple suit stained with blood. He had stared at his fingers, quiet and cold, his eyes dark and emotionless. Bruce had thought that there had still been this spark in him. He had thought that spark was just part of the Joker, as strong and unbreakable as the man himself. Maybe it was what made him insane, but it also drew Bruce in like nothing else in his life.

Bruce balled his hands into fists, digging his fingernails into his palms. This was not the time to grieve. He had been thinking about Joker all day, but as Batman, he could not mourn a criminal. Gotham still needed him. He owed the city to keep on fighting and make it a safer place.

Rumors were already starting about Batman leaving, now that Joker would never haunt Gotham again. Some people were concerned he would become a new villain, losing his mind over the loss of his archnemesis and replacing the Joker. Bruce wondered how they could even come up with this.

He thought back to when Gordon had met him on the rooftop of the GCPD the night before. When giving him the news of Joker’s death, Gordon had looked at him with strangely guarded eyes, concealing any thoughts he might have had. Had he been afraid of how Bruce would react? Scared of what he would do once he knew?

Bruce had just stared at him, not quite believing what he was saying. Eventually, he had just left, without saying a word. Even now, his mind didn’t seem to process the information. Why would Joker do this? Was this his fault? Joker had always seemed to enjoy their dance, but had Bruce misinterpreted him entirely?

Or maybe Joker had figured out that the best way to upset and torment Bruce was to take his own life, destroying the routine they had forever. Maybe he knew how much Bruce needed it.

With a mental shake, he pulled himself out of his thoughts and finally started putting on the suit. He cautiously touched the first piece, a part of his mind screaming at him to stop. But after a moment of hesitation he realized that it didn’t actually feel any different, on the contrary, way too familiar, and it was easier than expected to click the different pieces together, slowly transforming into his alter ego. The suit always made him feel stronger, capable of any challenge he had to face. It helped a little, but the Joker kept lurking at the back of his mind.

He looked down at the cowl in his hands, suddenly the last piece he had to put on. It stared coldly back at him. And not for the first time, he wondered if he was really the right person for this. If it wasn’t for him, maybe Joker wouldn’t have killed Jason. And maybe he would still be here.

This was all his fault. He should have paid more attention to those dead eyes. Bruce had always suspected that Arkham wasn’t good for him. They weren’t helping him there. All these years, and Bruce had never even once spared a thought about changing something. He had never questioned why Joker broke out again and again. After a while, he had even started to count on that. He had just assumed, like everyone else, that there was no cure to Joker’s illness. That it was normal that Arkham didn’t help. That it was ok. And maybe those assumptions were the reason why Joker was dead now. Maybe it was his fault that Joker killed himself.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bruce noticed his body had started to tremble. He was still staring at the cowl in his hands, suddenly unable to put it on. He shouldn’t be doing this. It was all his fault. And what was the point of even putting on the suit, now that Joker was gone?

The city still needs Batman, he quietly reminded himself.

“Are you ok, Bruce?” Tim’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts unexpectedly, pulling him out of his mind, out of the waters he was drowning in. Bruce hadn’t even noticed his partner had entered the cave.

He stared at the cowl in front of him, blinking quickly. It was impossible to look up and meet Tim’s eyes, letting him see how raw and vulnerable he was. Bruce grabbed the cowl a bit harder and tried to focus. Slowly, he got his body back under control. He could feel a sting in his eyes, but the shaking stopped, and his mind cleared a little. Tim approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Somehow, Bruce found it comforting. “I’m fine,” Bruce muttered, still looking down at his cowl. It couldn’t sound very convincing.

“If you need a break, I can also- “

“I’m fine, Tim,” Bruce interrupted, his voice now firmer. With a stern look, he pulled the cowl over his head. For a moment, he was afraid it wouldn’t fit him, revealing that he was trying to pretend being someone he was not. But the cowl moved onto his head without any problem, and with it the vigilant’s persona slipped on him like a glove. Bruce let out a relieved exhale. Immediately, he felt more under control, pushing his emotions into the back of his mind. With a newfound confidence he turned to face Tim, who let go of his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

*****

Tim didn’t say anything else after that. They had agreed to split up that night to look at different places where Joker’s goons could be hiding and watch out for any suspicious activities. After Joker’s death had been in every newspaper that morning, many of the more powerful criminals would probably be interested in recruiting them. Bruce was silently grateful to spend the night apart from his Robin. He didn’t like seeing Tim so worried about him, especially because that usually meant he wanted to talk with Bruce about it. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to have a conversation about how he felt about Joker’s death.

Bruce was driving through a dark street, dimly lit by streetlights, when he saw a person on the sideway stomping angrily away from somebody. It could have been something completely harmless, but he decided to bring the car to a stop anyways, just to check out what was going on. Soon, the person had come close enough for him to recognize her. Bruce tensed. A fight with Poison Ivy was nothing he was up for right now. But she didn’t even glance at him, and just passed his car, her hands balled into fists and every step so hard it must have been painful. That behavior couldn’t mean anything good. When Ivy had walked a few meters away from him, Bruce stepped out of the car and approached the person she seemed to be walking away from.

Coming closer, Bruce could recognize Harley Quinn standing on the sideway. Vines were curling around her from shoulder to toe. They had even extended to the baseball bat Harley was holding in one hand, as if she had been in a fight. It was clearly Ivy’s doing.

Harley was struggling to free herself from the vines, which only seemed to cling tighter in return. Why would Poison Ivy do that to her? Bruce looked at the criminal in front of him for a second, puzzled. She seemed to be even angrier than Ivy had been. As soon as she spotted him, something in her switched, turning the air around them cold. It made him stop in his tracks for a moment, suppressing a shudder. If looks could murder, Harley would have killed Bruce with the murderous glance in her eyes.

“YOU! This is all your fault!”

She started struggling against the plants even harder, and Bruce could see them loosening their grip on her. He stopped in front of her. Under the anger he could see the pain in her eyes. They were red and swollen under the make-up. She looked upset and broken in a way Bruce had never expected to be possible, and he knew exactly why.

Joker might start even more chaos and pain being dead than alive, Bruce thought bitterly. Who knew what Harley would do in that rage. Even Ivy apparently couldn’t stop her completely. And Bruce was sure there were many more people that would riot in Gotham, either because they were as broken as Harley or because they wanted to use the opportunity to gain power.

His head started to pound. Harley was right. Joker’s death was his fault. And everything that would happen in the aftermath of it would be his fault as well. Of course, she would be upset with him. All her anger, all the fury was directed at him.

On any other day, Bruce would have just chained Harley and brought her to Arkham. He would have been grateful that Ivy had done his work and spared him a difficult fight. But the simple thought of Arkham made his stomach turn. He couldn’t face that place again. Not yet. And he had a feeling Harley couldn’t either, but maybe that was just what he told himself. Didn’t he at least owe her to get away this time? What if she also committed suicide once he had brought her in?

Bruce took a deep breath, making a decision he would probably regret later. He faced Harley one last time, taking in all the fury in her eyes and committing it to memory. It would remind him of what he had done and punish him for the terror he had brought over his city. Then, he started walking away.

“You know you can’t get away with this! Not with this!” Harley screamed behind him. And suddenly, he could hear footsteps approaching, accompanied by angry screams.

“You murderer! It’s your fault! You killed him! Murderer!”

Bruce stopped abruptly. He had _killed_ the Joker? His body went ice-cold at the thought. He knew it was his fault that Joker was dead. He would probably still be alive if Batman hadn’t brought him to Arkham. But Joker had killed himself, hadn’t he? In the end, it had been his decision, hadn’t it? Had Bruce _killed_ Joker? Was he a _murderer_? He, Batman? That couldn’t be. Batman didn’t kill people. Had he broken his one rule?

Suddenly, the world started spinning around him, the dull throbbing in his head all of a sudden sharp and painful. He never wanted to kill Joker. He wanted to keep Gotham safe. That had been his only intention. Was that murder? Bruce clenched his teeth. He knew the answer. It wasn’t. Harley Quinn was just playing tricks on him, using his weakness. She wanted to blame him for everything, make him feel guilty.

And as sudden as he had been thrown into the dark, cold waters to drown, everything turned into red, hot flames. Bruce was burning, his guilt turning into rage. Anger started fueling him, mostly at himself for letting himself get lost so much during a patrol, but also at Harley for upsetting him so much. How dare she accuse the Batman of murder? On so many occasions he could have killed her, but never had. Why would he kill the Joker?

Angrily, he turned around. “Joker killed himself! You know that!”, he growled.

“That’s a LIE!”

Bruce had no idea how long he had been standing with his back on Harley, which had been so dangerous he now wondered what on earth he had been thinking. When his eyes found her, she was swinging the baseball bat. And before he could react, it hit him hard on the head.

For a moment, Bruce felt like time stopped. He saw Harley, the baseball bat in her hand, leaves in her hair and her clothes torn from the vines. Her eyes were wild, still full of fury and pain. It was the look of someone staring at the person who had killed the love of their life. And then Bruce just saw the dark night sky as he fell to the ground.

“That must have been quite a bad hit,” a familiar voice said. Bruce frowned. Wasn’t that Joker’s voice? He looked up to see a long, dark silhouette outlined by the moonlight behind him. His shadow fell over Bruce when he stopped and trapped him with his feet on both sides of his legs.

“Just what I expected from my girl.” Laughter filled the air. Joker’s laughter. He grinned down at Bruce. Bruce felt a sudden sting in his chest. Somehow, seeing Joker laugh made everything worse. He would never see him like this again. Not the real Joker, because he had died, and it was his fault.

“Joker.” The word left Bruce’s mouth as a whisper. It sounded weak, broken. He clenched his teeth, trying desperately to keep back the emotions welling up in him.

Joker regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. He leaned his head to one side. “What’s wrong, darling?”

What’s wrong? Joker was asking him what was wrong? Joker had left him, that was wrong. He had played his final joke by removing himself from their game. Leaving Batman permanently. Forever. They would never dance on the rooftops of Gotham again. Never play their twisted game of hide and seek. The Joker had turned Bruce’s life upside down once again. One last time.

Joker looked at him, his eyes staring into Bruce’s. His smile disappeared and a sudden sadness settled on his face. He kneeled down and leaned over Bruce to come face to face with him, placing his arms on the ground above Bruce’s shoulders.

Bruce looked into the bright green eyes above him. Their spark was gone. He could see it very clearly now. They looked sad and pained. Joker’s mouth, painted with bright red lipstick, was untypically serious. His green curls fell into his face now that he was leaning downward. He still looked intently into Bruce’s eyes, as if searching for something.

“Why did you do this? Why did you… why did you leave me?”

As difficult as it was for him to ask this question, Bruce needed an answer. His voice couldn’t quite conceal the emotions threatening to burst onto the surface, making his eyes sting and his chest hurt.

Joker’s eyes went wide. “Leave you?” One hand came up to softly stroke over Bruce’s cheek down to his chin.

“I will never leave you.”

Joker looked at Bruce with an intensity that drew him into those eyes like a magnet, with such force it was impossible for him to look away. He exhaled a shuddering breath. Joker’s eyes traveled to his mouth for a moment before locking with Bruce’s again. His face slowly came closer. Bruce could feel the tension between them, a tension that seemed to always be there with them, no matter what they did. It closed tightly around his throat, making it hard to breathe, and sent a wave of heat through his body. It felt right, so right.

For a moment, he just allowed the feeling to raise up in him. It was a heat he had never admitted he felt when seeing the Joker, not even to himself. But this could be his last opportunity to surrender to it, and to the man looking down on him. His last opportunity to just let go.

Joker’s eyes were very close now, their green filling almost his entire vision. He couldn’t look away. He felt Joker’s warm breath on his mouth, his hand still caressing his cheek. If Bruce just leaned upwards a little, he would… they would…

A kick to his groin made Joker disappear from one second to the next. Bruce groaned.

“This always works to wake you guys up,” Harley said coldly. She placed one foot on his shoulder.

Bruce looked up at her, slowly coming back to reality. He immediately felt an emptiness where all the warmth that had filled him moments ago was sucked out of him. His chest squeezed tightly, and a sense of loss started spreading in his body, so strong it caught his breath. He mercilessly pushed his feelings back into their corner. With a few blinks, his eyes finally focused. Harley was pointing a gun at him.

“Don’t you dare move right now,” she said in a low, cold voice. She sounded way to calculated and focused to ignore her command.

Bruce stared at the weapon that had replaced the baseball bat and tried not to panic. He could feel his breath getting shorter, his heart pounding against his chest wildly. Memories of a life-changing night, a long time ago, came back, uninvited.

A sudden bang broke the tense silence.

Harley was falling next to him. She landed to his left side, her eyes wide in shock. Something had hit her head, and blood was quickly painting her hair red. Bruce looked up.

His face was in the dark, green hair dimly lit by the moonlight behind him, his figure casting a long shadow on Bruce. He carelessly threw Harley’s bat to the floor, eyes fixated on Bruce. Joker’s teeth flashed when a wide grin spread on his face.

“Missed me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed (although it was kind of dark).  
> Let me know what you thought about it :)
> 
> EDIT:  
> There were a few people who asked if I was going to write a continuation of this. I do have an idea for it, but at the moment, I don't really feel like writing it, and I also like the ending as it is right now. So I'm sorry, but there won't be another part of this story anytime soon! (But who knows, maybe one day)  
> If anyone wants to continue this story though, please feel free to do so, I'd love to read it!!


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